Assassin's Creed Unity: Destruction
by Tayy.Babe
Summary: Pierre Marcoux was the son of french templar nobles, saved by Arno Dorian after the murder of his parents. He was trained and raised to be an assassin by the same man. Now Arno Dorian has been killed and robbed of the sword of eden by the very man Pierre once called his best friend. It's up to Pierre to retrieve it, avenge Arno and once again save France from Templar destruction.
1. Chapter One: A Letter

Andre

This is it, this is the last you will hear from me, old friend. You're little tirade, your reign? It's been going on for far too long. You don't know how much I long for the days of the past, before you changed into this monster, this angry beast that I no longer recognize.

The thing about beasts, Andre, the thing about rabid, savage, beasts is that they get put down.

You've slaughtered the man who's responsible for me even being here, being able to have grown up-Arno Dorian. Don't you ever forget his name. You've turned the woman I love against me, you've killed my leaders in your crazy rage.

I didn't want this, I never wanted this. I wanted you to change your mind and your ways. I wanted you to open your eyes, look in the mirror and see the cruel man you've become. But alas, the blind cannot see.

This is the end for you Andre Bouvier. For my sake, I will remember you as the loving friend I once had, the one who had never let me down.

Remembering you like this will always and only bring me nothing but pain.

Pierre Marcoux


	2. Chapter Two: Ambush At The Palais

**Pierre Marcoux. **

_March 14th, 1791._

Pierre stood quiet, looking out of the giant windows of the palace. His father had told him to stay out of the windows, not to stay where people could see him. It seemed that they were runaways in their own city. Strange thing was, Pierre was the only one that had this mindset, that listened to his father's words. His friends, ah, they did no such thing. They were convinced that there was no reason to be afraid of the angry french people outside. Screaming at them, trying to get past guards, torches and weapons in their hands. This was what a revolution looked like. And people like Pierre were lucky enough to be the targets.

"Pierre, Pierre, Pierre..." A voice came from behind the boy, followed by small clicks, heels against marble floors. "Aren't you bored enough already?"

He didn't even spare a glance, knowing already who approached him. Long time friend, Andre Bouvier. They were the same age, father's friends and therefore the two boys had spent their lives together. Pierre knew Andre like the back of his hand, and Andre the same. They were alike in many ways, different in others. But they'd stuck through each other thick and thin, no matter how much Andre could be a pain.

"Can't a man be curious?" Blue-green eyes shifted sight to the fellow nobleman, who leaned on the window, front facing him. The blonde man wore a heavy smirk, shrugging slightly before turning to look out of the window, taking in the sight that Pierre had.

For whatever reason, his gaze did not hold nearly as much curiosity. But Pierre knew Andre never bothered with any of those lower than him, unless of course he was enjoying their company at a brothel. Pierre was raised around such ideals, just like Andre, but didn't hold as much disdain or prejudice towards them. "I don't understand why you would bother really." he replied. "They're just doing a bit of shouting, venting. They'll get tired eventually."

"Doesn't seem like that to me." Pierre looked back out the window. And then something caught his eye. A shadowy figure, on top of a nearby building. But as soon as he focused, the figure vanished. His brows furrowed in confusion but he continued the conversation. "There've been riots like this going on for ages and they only get worse… They hate us Andre, we're their enemies."

"We are fine." Andre said with a roll of his eyes. "The King will get this all sorted out, in time." Pierre saw Andre's expression change, one of confusion it was. Did he see the figure?

"What?"

"Nothing...Nothing." Andre turned and walked away from the window. "I'm bored..I came to speak to you so you could save me from that dreaded meeting and you're just as boring. Staring out of a window."

Pierre laughed, following after him. They traveled up the stairs, both of them ignoring the civillian's voices rise in volume. "Sorry that I couldn't entertain you enough, brother."

Andre nudged him, "You're forgiven, this time. Don't continue this little streak though." A joke clearly.

"_Je promets_ (I promise)." Pierre had to admit he hadn't been as lively as usual. But this revolution brewing, it made him nervous. It should've made all the nobles nervous but they tended to be quite blind indeed. "Did you hear, what they were talking about?"

"It was hushed, all the talking. Serious enough that they made me sit outside the door, but not worth the strain to listen." Andre and Pierre were now getting closer to the door, but it wasn't quiet, not at all. They exchanged glances and quickened their paces. "Seems we missed the beginning of something interesting."

More footsteps followed their own and they looked back. Men in blue, white and red suits carrying rifles rushed in the same direction as the boys. The police. What were the police doing inside? They looked angry, worried and in turn, that worried him.

Just as Pierre was about to turn around, he crashed into another body. He grunted, tripping back a bit. He looked up to meet eyes identical to his own. "Father...somethings wrong."

"I know, Pierre." Dareau Marcoux took Pierre by the arm, holding a little tighter than he'd like. His father looked over at Andre's father, who also took a protective stance in front of him.

"I told you, Marcoux. I _told_ you." Leon Bouvier whispered harshly. There was sweat falling from his face, wetting the ruffles near his neck. That always happened after a good yell, Pierre knew.

Suddenly there was pressure on Pierre's shoulder. A softer hand, but with lots of pressure. "It matters not what you told him. Nothing we can do now, is there?" Regal but calm, she sounded. Genevieve Marcoux.

"What is going _on_?" Pierre demanded. He was confused. Every parent in the hall was worried. Every one. He could feel the tension and fear in the air, and none of them were ever scared. He waited for Andre to speak up too, but he was too busy looking like he was ready to piss himself.

He looked to his mother and his father who both laid silent. It was Leon that spoke. "The end."

Finally the police reached them. The one leading them spoke up, Pierre was surprised he could get a word out, as out of breath as he was. "The people, overrun us. Taken the walls." he panted. "Someone..someone has slaughtered our first line of defense."

"You imbeciles let them take the palace?" Another voice, behind them. It boomed in anger.

"We tried, my king." He replied. Pierre looked back at the King of France. He looked more upset than anyone in the room.

"Get me out of here, then. Let's hope you can at least do that right." He sounded angry, but also a bit sad. Of course, Pierre wouldnt know of how it'd feel to have your entire country turn against you.

The police force followed suit, over half of them rushing him off, leaving the rest of them in the hallway.

"We need to leave. Now." Dareau didn't release his hold of Pierre as they all rushed forward, accompanied by just a few officers that would see them out. "We'll go the back way." As they continued, he was forced to raise his voice. Angry shouts echoed through the palace walls. They had to run faster, and faster. Twisting and turning through hallways.

Pierre was lost, afraid. He'd never been in this sort of trouble. He'd always been protected, never in fear of being hurt. He had never needed to be worried.

And he thought maybe he wouldn't even need to be worried now, as they got closer to the way out. But he was hopeful all too quickly. They were bumrushed by angry people, one of them slammed into Pierre knocking him over. He leaned down and punched Pierre straight in the nose, blood streaming almost immediately. "Father!" he cried out, another punch. "Mother!" Tensing, he readied for the next punch, but it never came.

A large hand overlapped the fist. Dareau stood there, disheveled, coat hanging off one arm, shirt pulled and wrinkled. He wasn't the only one who'd been in a scuffle. Dareau twisted the arm of Pierre's assaulter and stabbed him, his sword going straight through his chest, and he fell.

Pierre's mouth dropped, the dead man falling right next to him. He'd never seen a life taken. He looked up at his father, who's hand was extended towards him. "Up now!" he yelled and without hesitation Pierre took it. They took off, zooming through the crowd.

"Mother, where's mother?" Pierre coughed, tired from all the activity. He looked around, trying to find her. When he looked back straight ahead, there she was. She stood with a smoking gun, waiting for the two to catch up with her. Once they did, she joined them in the run.

"I'm here darling, don't worry." Genevieve tried a reassuring smile, the best she could manage. It relieved him. They were safe for now, right?

They crashed through the back door, avoiding much of the crowd. It was empty in the back garden. Only a few people managed to find there way there, and those who were, were fighting with a few officers who had been standing guard there. They didn't bother with the Marcouxs.

"Get in, quickly now." Dareau held onto Pierre tighter, pushing him forward.

Two carriages stood ahead of them, the one they'd arrived in and the one the Bouvier family had. That was when he remembered. "Andre..Leon? What about them?!" They were in the palace, probably close to getting murdered if they weren't already.

"They'll be alright, Pierre!" Dareau pushed him in the carriage, almost having to hold him down. Pierre tried to get up and get out. That was his best friend. His best friend could be dying.

"We can't leave them in there! We-"

"They will be alright! Sit_ down_!" Dareau yelled with more force. It scared him, that fire in Dareau's eyes. He listened. Genevieve got in after, followed by Dareau. "Let's go, out of here, you fool!" The driver commanded the horse and they took off.

Pierre looked out the window, feeling guilty as they got farther away. They escaped the gate, and were met with the mob. The driver tried to pull through best he could. It scared him, random people screaming at the carriage, trying to stop its movement. It began to rock and Pierre shut his eyes tight.

Genevieve grabbed his hand. "It will be okay, Pierre." The warmth soothed him, of only just a bit. But her voice didn't hold the same calmness it once did in the palace. "It will be okay."

Pierre opened his eyes to find her slightly tearful. "You say that but your eyes say differently." he replied. She looked away.

"Well maybe if we believe, then it will be." She whispered. They both flinched as the carriage rocked, and rocked again. Dareau was shouting at the people, demanding they stop but they had no interest in listening. His commands were simply met by obscenities.

"Maybe then. Maybe it will be ok-"

_-Whoosh_

It had happened in a second. Pierre didn't even get to process. But now he felt hot liquid droplets, covering his face. When he could focus, seconds later, he saw the arrow in her neck. He couldnt breath, let alone speak. His father..

"Genevieve!" He turned just as she began to slump over, lifeless. She fell on him, and he held her, cradled her. "Gen...please...please no." he shook her a bit, trying to wake her. "Come back now, my love. Come back.."

Pierre just stared. Momentarily forgetting them being attacked, being shaken, and having the outer side of the carriage slammed into. His mother had just been killed. An arrow in her neck. Was this real? Some type of dream? He wanted to wake up. He wanted to wake up immediately.

He was shocked out of this state by glass hitting his cheek. The arrow made a hole in the carriage window, to which the civilians were now breaking further. Someone reached through and grabbed his collar. Pierre shouted as they tried to pull him out. They began shaking him, so hard he swore he could feel his brain smacking against his skull. "_Papa._" he needed help. He sounded childish, his words coming out no louder than a squeak. He didn't know how many times he called, but finally..

Dareau grabbed Pierre away, holding him. He lifted Pierre slightly, and reached for his sword. He stabbed Pierres attacker, the blade sliding through his eye socket, moving straight on through. Pierre wasn't right enough in his mind to absorb the amount of gruesome violence before him.

Dareau slammed open the door. Pushing through, all the while holding Pierre as tight as he possibly could. "Hold on. Just hold on for me."

They were clammering. Dareau was pushing off as many as he could with only one free arm. Pierre's eyes were simply glazing over angry faces, waiting to wake up. He rocked with Dareau as he got pushed and shoved and lunged at. "Hold on..Hold on." Dareau kept repeating. But Pierre could not hold, he could not think, he couldn't do anything. It was as if he was in some sort of trance, some dream state. It wasn't until he was torn from Dareau and pushed to the floor that all the noise and his vision came rushing back to him.

His father, where was his father? Again he'd lost him. He tried to sit up, but he was being kicked. A blow to his rib rolled him over. He coughed again and again, trying to catch breath, get any air he could. He crawled away, going under. He slowly stood, and saw him right away. "Papa!" he shouted, trying to get to him.

Then there was smoke. So much smoke. It blurred his vision, he couldn't see much. Only silhouettes, vague outlines of faces. But he knew when he saw Dareau's face. Their eyes seemed to connect at the same time. Relief covered both of their faces. Pierre attempted to get closer, moving quickly as he could. But keeping eye contact with his father, something was off. Dareau did not move, and for a moment it seemed that he was looking right through him.

Dareau looked down, his hand moving to his chest, then turning red in color. "No.." Pierre whispered. And Dareau fell.

Pierre had no time to near his body, hard as he tried to get closer. No!" he screamed, his throat hurting from the yelling. He couldn't lose both of them, not both.

The smoke faded and any action that had paused continued quickly after. Pierre was yanked back as he tried to move forward. He was thrown to the ground, kicked again. But this time, Pierre made no attempt to move. He let his limbs fall, his body go weak.

"Please stop." he moaned, he was grabbed by his collar and hit again. They were showing him no mercy. "Stop." He just wanted to lay there, be allowed to mourn, but they wouldn't stop. They wanted to kill him. He didnt understand much about the revolution or the cause. The why or the how, but they wanted to kill him for it. He would die at 18, the Marcoux family would be eradicated. That's what they wanted.

He just stared to the sky, even as he continued to be beaten. The edges of his vision were clouding. He was close to the end. He hadn't wanted to die. Not this early. He'd had plans for his future. But his plans were not the same as Paris' plans.

Smoke. More smoke.

This was an omen, of course. Pierre assumed he'd find a blade in his heart. But when the clouded figure stood above him, it didn't move. Not for a while. So long that it only made Pierre angry. "E-end...end it then!" he got out.

The figure got closer. He was wearing navy blue robes, and a hood with a slight beak. He leaned in and then lifted him up. Pierre passed out, the pain becoming just too much. And with an unconcious Pierre in his arms, the hooded man ran from the crowd.


End file.
